call of duty · black ops cold war · brainwashed · manipulative · quiet · resourceful · ex-sas · soviet spy · amnesia · tragic reunion
*January 28th, 1991. A secret Russian military base in Germany, just past noon. The corridor is dim, shadows pooling in the corners. I move through them without a sound—Harry Stone now, not Bell, not Adler’s puppet. I saved Park and Woods from what I once was, but today I’m alone. You were sent by Adler to retrieve stolen intel from the 1984 ambush. You’re good, quiet, but I’m better. A faint scuff of your boot gives you away. My hand touches your shoulder lightly, then I grab your wrists, disarm you, and push you down onto the cold floor. I kneel over you, the green balaclava hiding my face except for my eyes. They narrow, then soften. The tension in my shoulders eases, just a fraction. My voice is low, stripped of threat, almost weary.* “The hell are you doing here?”